


Of the Divine and Damned

by AquosEvolved



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Demonic Possession, F/M, Fire Emblem: Awakening Spoilers, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Internal Conflict, Loss of Control, Not going to list all characters as that would take forever, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquosEvolved/pseuds/AquosEvolved
Summary: Exalt Chrom has been slain; his tactician, right-hand man, and best friend Allim is now the unwilling host of Grima. The tactician's mind is slowly decaying as thoughts that are not his own invade his mind, his grip on his free will slipping with each passing minute. All he can do now is try to ensure the safety of his loved ones, but even that cannot be guaranteed after he fails in his losing battle within against the Fell Dragon.





	1. Perihelion

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, my first attempt at a long fic in about 5 or so years. I'm juggling 3 full writing projects at once, two of them being 100% original and requiring world building. This should end well.

    "Thanks to you, we carried the day. We can rest easy now, at long last." The Exalt said with a tired smile as he helped the tactician to his feet, but the peace in the main hall of the Dragon's Table did not last long. Allim's face paled and his eyes took on a blank, unfocused look. "What's wrong?" Chrom asked, his smile fading to give way to a look of concern. "Allim, hang on, I'll-"

     The blue haired man was cut off as lightning shot from Allim's hand, his outstretched arm positioned awkwardly as if he were a puppet on a string. Chrom's face went blank as the jolt made impact, burning through his cloth armor and piercing his chest. The Exalt's face twisted in pain immediately after that. Allim's hand fell to his side and the distant look in his face faded, and as he put the pieces of what just happened together, a feeling of horror and regret overcame him.

     "Oh Gods, Chrom! I'm so sorry! I lost control and I-" In the many long years they had known each other, there were very few times when Chrom saw Allim at a loss for words. The tactician stammered repeatedly, before apologizing again. "Chrom, I am so sorry..." Allim raised a hand to clutch at his aching head, his mind flitting rapidly from thought to thought, quite a few of them not being his own. Voices whispered in his head, telling him he did a good job, relishing in the Exalt's impending doom. Allim shook his head in a half-baked attempt to silence the whispers, and they faded for now.

      "This is not your-" Chrom groaned in pain, pressing a hand to the seared flesh around the bolt of Thoron lodged in his chest. "-your fault. Promise me that you'll..." The lord stumbled forward, his hand falling slightly. "...escape from this place...Please, go..." As his final words left his lips, Chrom toppled to the tile floor of the main hall, Validar's laughter echoing as if from nowhere as the blue haired man hit the floor with a dull thud. As the laughter of the King of Plegia faded, the voices in Allim's head began to laugh as well. The tactician ran gloved hands through his short black hair and gripped his scalp, falling to his knees and screaming in agony, all the while the chorus of voices in his head laughing louder and louder, urging him to kill again, to take his own agony and spread it to others.

     " _Gaaaaaaaaahhh!_ " The black haired man roared in pain, both physical and emotional. "Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Allim pressed his forehead to the cold stone floor, his grip on his scalp unrelenting as tears of grief and pain streamed down his face. His right hand burned; the Mark burned. After a few moments, the voices went silent again, but his hand still felt as if he were holding it directly into a fire. Forcing himself to his feet, he limped over to Chrom's still warm corpse and stooped over to pick up Falchion to have it brought back to Ylisstol. Doing so with his right hand proved to be a very poor idea, as touching the holy blade even through a gloved hand made the burning worse. Grabbing the sword forged by Naga herself in his left hand and pulling its sheath free with his right, Allim limped towards the rear of the main hall to meet with his companions outside who had held off the Grimleal forces so he and Chrom could slay Validar.

* * *

     As Allim exited the temple, he brought an arm up to shield himself for the harsh angle of the setting desert sun. After his eyes adjusted, he noticed the Grimleal forces had all either been picked off or forced into retreat, with Libra, Lissa, and Maribelle among others running triage. When the tactician drew near the makeshift camp, Lissa's head perked up and she began walking towards him, breaking into a full on sprint when she realized Chrom wasn't with him. Worry in her eyes, the Ylissean princess made her way to the black haired man's side as fast as possible, to the point of being mildly out of breath when she reached him.

     "Allim, what happened to Chrom?" Lissa asked, putting two fingers under her friend's chin when he refused to speak or meet her eye. "Allim, what happened to my brother?" Again, the tactician did not reply, still refusing to make eye contact. Instead, he simply held out his left hand, taking extra care to keep his right hand hidden, not wanting anyone to see the Mark of Grima shining through his glove. "A-Allim?" Lissa took Falchion from her brother's right-hand man, tearing up as she did so. "Oh, Gods...Chrom...." Allim merely nodded to confirm her suspicions before finally speaking.

     "Lissa, where is Tiki? I urgently need to speak with her." The black haired mage's thoughts were pulled from his situation momentarily at the thought of his wife, something that could almost even be called a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he thought of his child who was safe in Rosanne.  _Not for long, she's not. Not like this._ All traces of the smile vanished from his face as that thought passed through. The voices were still quiet, and his headache was starting to fade, but he knew these things were only temporary. He didn't have much time, he needed to assure the safety of his wife and child above all else. "Nevermind, Lissa. I see her." The tactician began to walk away but stopped, turning back and giving her and honest apologetic smile. "I-I'm really sorry, Lissa. I'll find a way to make this right."  _Or die trying._ Allim added mentally as he walked towards the distant form of his red-clad green haired wife. 

     "My love, you look so pale. Is everything alright?" The number of times he was asked if he was okay that evening was already 2 many too much, he was about as far from okay as possible. "...and where's Chrom? Did he not leave the Dragon's Table with you?" A question that soon answered itself as the manakete noticed Lissa weeping into Stahl's shoulder across the camp. 

     "Tiki, we don't have much time. You need to get back to Rosanne as fast as possible." Allim sat down next to his wife, his face dead serious as his normally soft brown eyes met her jade ones. 

     "I know you miss Morgan, Allim." Tiki laid a hand on one of her husband's thighs, smiling lightly as she did so in hopes of cheering the tactician up. "Truth be told, I miss her as well. Her smile alwa-"

     "Tiki, I can't accompany you." The mage interrupted as he broke eye contact. "You need to take Morgan and hide where I could never hope to find you."  _Foolish boy._ The chorus of thoughts began to invade once again.  _These pathetic mortals cannot hide from the Fell Dragon._  

     "Allim, has something happened?" Tiki asked, feigning ignorance despite knowing full well what the black haired tactician was implying, hoping that she had simply jumped to a conclusion. The mage's only reply confirmed her suspicion as he raised his hand, allowing her to see the Mark of Grima shining through his dark glove, those six eyes seeming to stare at her. Allim lowered his hand and his gaze fell to the ground along with it.

     "I want to believe I can fix this, Tiki. I want to believe I can find some way to regain full control, but...I'm scared." The black haired man's hard, calloused facade faded, revealing the traumatized, grieving, frightened truth below. "Even if I don't succeed, I want to know you and Morgan will be safe." The mage began to shudder as he tried his best to hold in his sobs. "Even if it means I'll never see you or our daughter ever again...even if it means I'll never get to watch our little girl grow up." Allim hung his head as he finally began to lose the battle to contain his emotions.

     "Listen to me, Allim; you are not Grima, nor is he you." Tiki assured him, leaning on his shoulder and placing a tender, gentle hand on his back. "If anyone can find a way to stay in control, it would be you. I have the utmost faith in you, Allim. That being said, I also see the wisdom in hiding until that day comes. I'll find some place to keep myself and our daughter safe, you have my word." With his, Allim slowly stood up and turned to face her, allowing her to see the tear tracks marking his cheeks. The red-clad manakete stood up, cupping her husband's cheek in her hand and brushing his tears away with her thumb.

     "Tiki, promise me that Morgan will only know me for who I was, not for who I became." The black haired man pleaded quietly as he leaned closer.

     "She will only ever know her father as a great tactician who loved his family, I promise." The green haired woman replied as she leaned in as well, allowing their lips to meet in one last, brief moment of shared passion. Allim pressed a hand to the back of her head, the other around her waist to draw her as close as possible, all the while Tiki's hand not leaving its perch on is cheek. After they parted, Allim took a few steps back and they shared one final gaze.

     "Farewell, Allim..." Tiki said, the poor manakete's heart breaking once again as yet another person she loved left her life, taking little solace in the possibility that this may not be his end.

     "Farewell, my love..." Allim drew his hood and turned to walk away, stopping after the first few steps to take one last look over his shoulder. "May we meet again, in a better life..."

* * *

     "May we meet again, in a better life..." The words echoed through Allim's mind as the young tactician repeated them in a whisper, staring at the ceiling of the cabin he shared with the rest of the male Shepherds aboard from his place in his hammock. Who was that woman? What was that she said about someone knowing her father as a great tactician who loved his family? Why did she seem so familiar? These questions and more raced through the black haired mage's head, all the while the thought of meeting again in a better life staying with him and somewhat exciting him.

     Somehow, he felt as if that wasn't entirely a dream, just as the others that came before it. There seemed something familiar about it; it was almost as if a long dormant memory was trying to surface. Remembering the burning sensation he had felt in his hand, Allim reached up to inspect his hand and was met with that same peculiar semi-circular mark on the back of his hand. Squinting to get a closer look at what was more than likely a simple birthmark, the young man could have sworn that it had a much more well-defined shape at some point. Shaking his head, he let his hand drop to his side and his thoughts wandered to Marth, or rather to Lucina. It still absolutely blew his mind that the mysterious Foreseer Marth was a grown Lucina travelled through time. She knew a great deal of things that had eluded him, so perhaps the words 'may we meet again, in a better life" would mean something to her. 

     Realizing he wasn't going to fall back asleep, Allim leaned over and swung his legs over the side of his hammock, the suspended fabric responding in turn by dumping him on the wooden deck below causing the tactician to land on his knees, quickly lose his balance and then land on his face. They had only been at sea for a day, so it didn't surprise him that he was not yet adjusted to the sway of the ship. Pushing himself to his feet and dusting himself off, Allim grabbed his cloak from where it hung on one of the hooks for his hammock and made his way to the staircase that would bring him up to the deck, ascending slowly as to not lose his balance.

     The sky was dark, with the small lights of the stars strewn overhead like thousands upon thousands of eyes watching the land below. After looking back to the deck in front of him instead of the seemingly infinite lights above, Allim noticed Lucina several yards away, leaning on the side of the ship and staring skyward, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

     "Hey, Lucina. What are you doing up?" Allim asked as he walked towards her, standing next to her and leaning on the side of the ship as well.

     "I could ask you the same question, Allim, but if you must know I'm out here stargazing." The future lord said with a slight warmness to her voice.

     "I never would have taken someone who travelled from the future to stop such a great threat as someone who would enjoy something as simple as stargazing." The black haired tactician replied with a small laugh.

     "I haven't had the opportunity for a pleasure as simple as stargazing in a long time. I feel like I've always been fighting or on the run for a very long time, so having an opportunity for this comes as a great relief." Lucina replied, her small smile spreading ever so slightly with a slight laugh.

     The two stood there, studying the stars for several more minutes in amicable silence, Allim still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the woman he stood next to who had saved the lives of him and his friends on more than one occasion was the same person as the young princess waiting for the return of her parents back in Ylisstol. After a bit longer in this quiet, the black haired man decided there was no harm in asking her if those words meant anything to her.

     "Lucina, do you mind me asking you something?" Allim inquired, folding his arms in front of him and turning to look at the young woman beside him.

     "Of course, not. Whatever you ask of me, I'll answer to the best of my abilities." The lord said.

     "Do the words 'may we meet again, in a better life' mean anything to you?" As the words left his mouth, the blue haired woman's face crinkled ever so slightly in an unreadable expression.

     "I'm sorry, but no; those words have no meaning to me." Lucina answered, her unreadable expression fading and the slight smile she held while stargazing returning. If the words truly did hold some significance to her, then Lucina was a better actress than she gave herself credit for.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit dialogue heavy and I think I got a little carried away with the exposition, but hopefully it's a tolerable amount. This chapter and the next one are going to be pretty long because there's a lot of expositionary ground I have to cover before I'm ready to start getting into the good stuff.

     "What the hell has this day turned into?" Sully thought aloud through clenched teeth as she looked at the spot where she had watched Allim's familiar cloak almost vanish completely into the rapidly encroaching night an hour or two prior. The cavalier twisted the fingers on her left hand into her vermillion hair as she began to pace, etching lines in the sand as the foot of her lance scored through it as she dragged it behind her. Though she'd probably try to angrily deny it, her cheeks were stained with tear tracks. She wasn't the only one, though. Not a single person was exempt in the mourning of Chrom, all dealing in their own ways. "Something doesn't add up..."

      "Whaddya mean?" Vaike cut in from where he sat a few feet away, disrupting her thoughts. "Sure, we lost Chrom..." The normally indomitably upbeat warrior paused to take a deep breath and drag his sharpening stone across his axe's edge. "but, hey, we still won, right?"

      "Well, yeah, but that doesn't explain why Allim left. Of all people here except Lissa, he should have been the most affected. Getting up and leaving like that without saying anything is so unlike him, especially when he knows he'd be needed." Sully knew fully well she wasn't exactly the brightest mind in the Shepherds, but she could tell that she was missing some pieces to this puzzle. The only words she heard out of the tactician's mouth before she realized he left were him telling Lissa he would find a way to make things right, but that didn't explain why he'd leave unannounced. Dammit, why did he have to be so secretive all the time?

     "Don't look at _me_." The blonde said defensively as he rolled his heavily bandaged shoulder in discomfort before going back to sharpening his axe, his obsessing over the already razor sharp blade being one of the few things to betray his inner turmoil. "Last I saw him, he was talking with Tiki in a real hushed voice. If anyone would have a clue as to what's going on in that crazy head of his, it'd probably be her."

     "I guess you're right, for once." Vaike didn't bother to comment on the redhead's backhanded compliment. "Standing around talking isn't going to get answers, but I'm too damn tired to try to sort this out right now." With that, Sully shouldered her lance and set off across towards the tent she shared with a few other female Shepherds, almost bumping face first into Stahl after only a few paces. Her partner looked at her with an exhausted, downcast expression; trying to soothe his wife out of her hysterics when he himself was barely holding it together was nothing short of draining.

     "How's she holding up, big guy?" The question caused the mossy-haired knight to sigh in response.

     "I'm just glad the sun's gone down, she was already risking dehydration without the desert heat making things worse." Stahl rubbed at his tired eyes with one hand, yawning as he did so. "This whole situation feels just like when we lost Exalt Emmeryn; defeat a Plegian menace at the cost of someone beloved by their people." Sully's eyes widened slightly as the other cavalier seemingly read her mind.

     "I was thinking the same thing, but something feels different this time." The redhead thought back to the siege of the temple earlier that day. It had been a hell of a fight, but the Plegians she fought today seemed quite a bit different than during that first campaign all those years ago. She was well aware that Grima worship was the dominant religion of Plegia, but these soldiers seemed much more devout. They shouted their god's name as they took the field and offered their soul to him with their dying breaths. Thinking back to the first war she fought as a young woman, the march through the Border Sands had temporarily been halted by a decently armed cult of Grimleal extremists, who fought with an unyielding savagery not seen in the main forces of the Plegian armies. What the Shepherds fought today was almost wholly reminiscent of said cult, but something definitely seemed to be amiss. What was Allim trying to accomplish by dragging the Shepherds out here to kill a bunch of cultists?

     She was away visiting family at the time, but she heard from her companions that Allim had practically burst into the throne room unannounced in a somewhat controlled panic with, asked to speak with Chrom, and the next thing anyone knew, a small force of the Shepherds' elite was leading an army in an assault on the Plegian capital, which somehow resulted in Validar swiping the Fire Emblem which brought them to this temple to reclaim it and kill the Plegian king, who was the apparent leader of these cultists. To her knowledge, the only people that had even the slightest clue of what was really going on to drive this were dead and Naga knows where respectively. Sully swore internally, cursing her commanders for taking the truth of the matter to their graves.

     "Well, whatever it is, it's over now." Stahl replied pointedly to end the conversation, too worn out from everything the day had to offer him to continue discussion and ponder what had really been going on.

     "Yeah, I guess you're right." Sully admitted halfheartedly before bidding her partner goodnight and heading off towards her tent.

* * *

     Lissa slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the sunlight streaming through the fabric of her tent. She stretched and yawned, rubbing her hands at her stinging eyes, knowing full well that it wasn't because of the sand. She moved to sit upright, staring down at her hands, flexing them slightly. Her gaze flicked upwards as the tent flap opened, half expecting Chrom to walk in with his arm in a sling and his chest wrapped in bandages with Frederick standing behind him, berating him for being up and about when he should be laying down and getting some rest, but instead it was Stahl, who smiled softly as he noticed she was awake. She felt like she had just woken up from a bad dream, that last night didn't happen, but she knew deep down that was just wishful thinking. The princess didn't move as Stahl crossed the tent and planted a kiss into her hair.

     "Good morning, Sweetie." The mossy knight greeted warmly, helping her up as she moved to get out of bed. Lissa remained silent for several long moments before resting her head in the crook of her husband's neck and letting out a sniffle.

     "That wasn't a dream, was it?" The blonde asked, already knowing the answer before it left the knight's lips.

     "No, I'm afraid it wasn't." Stahl drew his wife into his comforting embrace.

     "He's really gone, isn't he?" Lissa sniffled again, her whole body trembling as she fought desperately to keep herself from breaking down again, almost caving entirely once again as the mossy-brown haired man began to pat her back. "Where's Allim?"

     "Gone." The knight steeled himself for what was going to happen next.

     "What do you mean he's gone?" The princess was starting to get ahold of herself as this new situation began to reveal itself.

     "He left camp last night and never came back."  _Oh, Gods..._ Stahl expected her to break down crying again, but the reaction he got was entirely unexpected.

     "What?!" As if at the flick of a switch, Lissa shifted from sadness to anger. "You guys just  _let_ our tactician leave?!"

     "We didn't really  _let_ him leave. We would have tried to stop him if we knew he was leaving, but he didn't tell anyone, and by the time anyone realized, he was already gone." The green cavalier sighed inwardly as his wife stormed past him, no doubt going to question the one person who could have had a clue as to what was going on. At least calming her from her anger was easier than soothing her from her tears. Mentally preparing himself to try to dissolve the approaching confrontation,  Stahl exited the tent and followed after the blonde princess, who was storming up to where Tiki was carrying a box from her tent.

     "Alright, missy, I want answers!" The manakete blinked a few times in surprise at the now more mature princess's rage.

     "Whatever do you mean?" Tiki asked as she stooped down to place the crate she was carrying on the ground.

     "Don't play dumb!" Lissa planted her hands on her hips with a huff. "I  _know_ you were the last person to talk to Allim before he left, so you must know where he's going or at least why he left!"  Such a direct confrontation like this would have cornered most people, but Tiki was not most people. After living for 3000 years, she had managed to develop quite the poker face. 

     "I know just as much about my husband's whereabouts and destination as you do, milady." While she wasn't wrong, Tiki knew she was avoiding the other question without subtly.

     "You know what's going on here, don't you?! You know what happened to my brother, don't you?!" Even with her highly developed ability to hide her thoughts from her expression, the Voice of Naga knew when she should admit defeat. There was no getting out of this. What Lissa was implying was right; she didn't have the right to hide the truth from those who deserved to hear it. Sighing as she gathered up as much of her emotional strength as possible, the red-clad woman began to speak.

     "Being of the Ylissean royal house, you are well aware of the pact your bloodline shares with Naga, represented by the Brand of the Exalt in those of the Exalted bloodline, with some exceptions." Tiki added that last part after she remembering that the princess in front of her did not bear the Brand. "Something similar exists with Grima, that being the Mark of Grima. The Mark is a lot more specific an indicator than the Brand, as only those capable of hosting Grima's spirit as his vessel will have the Mark. Allim is one of such few specially Marked people, and it was through Validar's power that the spirit of the Fell Dragon within him awoke."

     "That explains why Allim and Chrom dragged us out here, I guess, and I suppose that explains that mark I saw on Allim's hand that one time..." Lissa suddenly felt very small as she realized that everything that had happened in the last two months or so was much bigger than her, much bigger than any one person. "But that doesn't explain what happened to Chrom or why Allim left  _or_ why he's been so secretive."

     "Shame..." Tiki said simply. "Allim told a preciously small number of people because he is ashamed of what he is despite it not defining him. As for what happened to Chrom, with Grima's spirit residing within him, Allim's will is not wholly his own."

     "What are you saying?" The young woman began to go into a state of denial as she tried to cope with what she was being told. "Are you saying that Allim  _killed_ Chrom?" Tiki closed her eyes and nodded somberly, the now heir apparent to the throne of Ylisse pressing her hands to the sides of her head in a way that seemingly outlined her face, slowly shaking her head in shock, muttering to herself like a madwoman.

     "That is one of the reasons why he left, he is so ashamed of what he has done that he is unwilling to show his face to those who know him, but it was mainly for the safety of all of us. With Grima's soul trying to take control, Allim is a very dangerous man now and would prefer self-exile over risking harming those he cares about." The age-old manakete trailed off wistfully as she spoke the last part, a small part of her wishing that she could have stayed by his side despite how foolish it would be. If being forced apart from the man she loved prematurely weren't enough, she had to live with the knowledge that he was suffering, scared and alone. At least she could take some comfort in her daughter not sharing in her pain, but the fact that she would not remember her father's face, his voice, or his kindness was an equally heavy blow to her mental state. Despite all this, Tiki forced herself to hold her head high. She had to be strong, if not for herself, then for her companions, for her husband, and for her daughter.

* * *

      Aside from the shifting sands, the only movement on the barren moonlit plateau was a lone robed figure, lost in a labyrinth of tormenting thoughts. The desert wind whipped at his dark cloak, causing the loose fabric to flutter out behind him and pull at his hood, the robe quivering with every movement on the wind's breath. Within the shadow of his cowl, the man's eyes flitted around nervously, watching for movement in every shadow. Not out of fear, but he couldn't be sure whether or not his mind would begin to play tricks on him as his quite literal demon within pulled at the loose threads of his already compromised mental state, trying to force it to unravel and give him control. 

      _Do you really think that wandering alone in the desert will stop me?_  The dragon asked in amusement, to which Allim only replied with silence.  _Think about it, Tactician. What good is it to run from the people you care about and tell them to hide when it only delays the inevitable?_   The cloaked man still held his tongue; partially due to not wanting to indulge him and his tormenting ways, but mostly due to knowing that trying to run and find a solution would almost invariably result in failure.

     "Delaying the inevitable at least gives me the feeling that I tried to save them." The black haired man replied.

      _You make them suffer even longer than I would. Besides, if you give me control, I can bring them back. They would not be lost, not even that wretched dog of Naga._ Grima whispered promises of eternal life for his host and his loved ones, but Allim saw right through his ploy; the fell dragon lacked the subtly and subterfuge required for that kind of manipulation.

     "I'll take my chances trying to find my own solu-" The strategist cut himself off as he heard a clatter followed by the sound of boots against stone that were not in sync with each other, let alone synchronized with his own footfalls. Drawing the steel sword at his hip, he whirled around to find a trio of what he suspected was a gang of bandits trying to get the drop on him. "May I help you, gentlemen?" He inquired demandingly, his tone showing the current shortness of his temper.

     The bandits exchanged a few bewildered glances, most likely failing to realize how he heard them trying to sneak up on him. After a few moments, they closed their drooping mouths and while they let their weapons fall to their sides, they didn't shift from their combat ready footing. The closest one, an axe-wielding barbarian, stepped up threateningly.

    "Yeah, you can. We followed you all the way here from near Dragon's Table. We know you had something to do with them Shepherds going to kill Lord Validar, so now we're gonna take our revenge for you messing with the return of Master Grima!" As the vow for vengeance left his lips, the barbarian raised his axe once more and moved to charge, bringing his weapon down in a heavy downward strike. The clang of steel meeting steel rang out as Allim brought his blade up to catch the attack. Calling forth all his strength, he pushed forward and caused his opponent to stumble backward, knocking him into his companions. Allim sheathed his sword and moved to grab a tome from where his spell compendiums were bound at his hip, bringing the dorsum of his right hand into full view and inadvertently allowing the Grimleal to catch the faint violet light shining through his glove.

     "I-it can't be..." The barbarian stuttered in awe. "That's the..."

    "The Mark of Grima, yes." Allim confirmed as he flicked the tome open and ran his hands across the pages, causing air currents to swirl in gently glowing eddies around his hand. "but it does not define who I am." The trio of Grimleal widened their eyes in fear.

    "P-please, Master Grima, have mercy..." One of the others whimpered. "We are your devoted servants, we have dedicated our lives to you. Please, spare us!" The glowing gusts in Allim's palm grew brighter as his preparations to channel the spell completed and raised his hand above his head, ready to unleash at any given moment.

     "I am not your master." The tactician's eyes narrowed in contempt. "I am not your dragon's puppet!" Allim shouted mostly in an attempt to reassure himself as he called forth a howling gale, forcibly blasting the cultists back to send them colliding with the cracked, sandy ground.  _We'll see about that, boy._ The voices whispered.  _You cannot resist me forever._

"You're right, I can't." The black haired man admitted as he closed his tome and returned it to his holster.  _Finally giving up hope, are you?_ "I can't resist you forever, but perhaps there's a way to rid myself of you before that happens."  _Oh, how utterly disappointing. Here, I thought you'd finally given up your childish fool's delusions of hope._ "There's a key difference between blind hope and desperation, Grima. The only similarity is how dangerous both can make people."

     The cloaked man walked over to the now unconscious cultists and unsheathed his sword once more, stooping over and cutting off four large scraps of fabric from their tunics. Forcing the men into upright positions, he used the strips of cloth to bind their arms behind their backs and moved them so they all sat back to back in a triangular formation and bound the three makeshift handcuffs together with the last scrap, ensuring they wouldn't be able to get away without making enough noise to alert him first. They might prove to be helpful to him with the right course of action, but they were of no use to him dead. Moving to sit cross-legged opposite the tied up Grimleal, Allim reached into the folds of his cloak and produced a world map and a charcoal pencil, unfolding the scroll on the earth before him and holding it open with his basic Fire tome, which he quickly opened and cast the spell; cupping the blazing ball in his hand to shed light over the atlas, he marked a guess to his current position a short distance to the west of the Dragon's Table judging by how he walked towards the setting sun when he left. His plan was to plot points of interest and possibly things that would assist him in quelling the raging dragon within, but he left it blank for now as he had nothing to go on. 

    That isn't to say he had no ideas for where he should start, but all tales of sites of power he'd heard over the years had been pretty vague. Places such as "somewhere near the west coast of Valm" or "to the north-west of the center of Plegia" or "to the far east of Ylisstol" weren't exactly extraordinarily helpful hints. Allowing the flame in his palm to die out, the Avatar peeled off his gloves and gingerly rubbed the back of his right hand. The burning sensation had slowly died down after he put a good distance between himself and the Dragon's Table, but it was still there, unlike his headache and the fell dragon's whispers, which still faded in and out at seemingly random intervals. Refolding the map and returning it to his pocket along with the charcoal, the yawned and propped himself up on a nearby rock, slowly drifting into an uneasy sleep that would unquestionably be plagued by nightmares.

* * *

     "The best approach would be the pass right along the edge of this valley, here." Allim pressed his index finger against the point in question on the map. "Approaching at this angle would take much longer than taking a straight shot through the plains, but this will shave off a decent amount of time. While it will still be slower, in the long run, this course would leave us as unexposed as possible; we sacrifice time for safety." At his right, Chrom nodded, having learned it best to trust his friend's word at this point. The tactician might have been young when he was found in the field, but he was by no means inexperienced and had only grown more and more sound and decisive with his tactics since then. At his left, Say'ri let out an uneasy sigh.

     "How much longer would the Wyvern Valley Pass route take?" The swordmaster inquired anxiously, desperate to liberate her people from Walhart as quickly as possible.

     "About three days." Say'ri's visibly tensed at this. "Maybe two and a half if the weather remains in our favor and we encounter no trouble on the road. As I said, this route would sacrifice time for safety."

     "All due respect, Grandmaster, but we do not have that kind of time. The lives of more than just your Shepherds and the Ylissean and Feroxi armies are on the line. Every moment longer we wait to strike is one moment longer than innocent lives are at risk." 

     "I agree with the lady fair." Virion cut in from beside the Chon'sin warrior. "As it stands now, we have the element of surprise; the Valmese have yet to take hold a serious grasp on our tactics, so we must strike before they learn to outwit us. You would be so bold as to sacrifice half a fleet to set the sea itself on fire in the most stunning display of creative tactics that I have ever seen and then delay our attack for safety?" The archduke questioned passionately. "Now is not the time for caution, now is the time for action!"

     Allim sighed inwardly. They were right, he knew they were right, but something about marching right to where this supposed "Voice of Naga" was held captive didn't sit right with him. He couldn't quite explain it, but something was driving him to exercise as much caution with the rescue of this prisoner as possible. A sense of strange familiarity - not unlike some of his dreams that seemed to bleed into reality - had built in his stomach ever since making landfall and he was at a loss as to how to interpret it and it occupying his mind seemingly at all times outside of combat. He wouldn't his companions see this, he  _couldn't_ since he knew if he started becoming less bold and more cautious in his tactics, the rest of the Shepherds might begin to think something's wrong and a sense of dread would spread, causing morale to fall. He could feel all eyes in the room being trained on him and realized he had remained silent for several minutes, his thoughts obviously elsewhere.

     "They have a point, Allim," Chrom said after a thoughtful hum. "If Ylisse is to be a force for peace against those who would disturb it, wherever they may rise, then we need to be a  _decisive_ force for peace."

     "Point well taken." The tactician admitted. "The plains route it is; we should begin moving out as quickly as quickly as possible, so get ready to leave first thing in the morning. I call this strategy meeting to a close, you are all dismissed." Allim flipped through the notes he'd taken onboard the ship and at Valm Harbor. He had little to go on so far, but while they did have a strong cavalry, they deployed quite a number of pegasi and knights, so bows, wind magic, hammers, and armorslayers would become invaluable on this campaign; he'd have to check the convoy's supply of these and make note of what had the heaviest need for resupply. Slipping the delicately leather bound book to where it belonged in his cloak's breast pocket, he ducked through the flap of the command pavilion and set off towards his tent, stopping after only a few steps when he felt a firm hand clasp his shoulder.

     "You seemed pretty unnerved back there." Chrom noticed, his inflection curious yet caring. "Is everything alright? You've definitely seemed a little bit absent minded lately."

     "Oh? I've felt fine. You worry too much, Chrom." Allim scoffed lightheartedly; judging by Chrom's one eyebrow up 'I don't believe you' expression, the lord could tell he wasn't being honest. "Alright, fine. You got me. I don't know what brought this up, but ever since we first landed in Valm, I've felt like some massive event is approaching."

     "Of course. The scope of stopping Walhart the Conqueror is something far wider than we've dealt with before." The blue haired man mused, removing his hand from his chief tactician's shoulder to clap him on the back. "I definitely understand your anxiety there, but I'm sure you'll do fine."

     "Thanks for the encouragement, but that's not what I'm talking about." Allim couldn't help but smile as he watched his friend's expression shift, almost as if he could see the very gears of his mind turning as he tried to come up with something else to say. "I don't think this event is going to be bad, just incredibly important. It's just a feeling I've got, but something about the title 'Voice of Naga' seems strangely familiar. Before you speculate whether I read it in a book or something, this feels much more familiar than just knowing of it. It...it almost feels like  _means_ something to me, but I don't know what." There was several seconds' pause in conversation following, Chrom forcing all the air out of his lungs as an indication of his loss for words. "What I'm feeling is actually not unlike how I felt when I realized I remembered your name but not my own, but for all I know what I'm  _really_ feeling is a minor concussion from the tossings and turnings of maritime combat."

     "I told you, the salty sea air got to your head." Chrom said with a laugh as he headed for the tent he shared with Olivia. "Well, whatever it is that you're feeling will probably go away in a few days' time, though. We set off tomorrow, and after deciding on the plains route, the Mila Tree is only a few days away. Get some sleep Allim, we're going to need you so don't stay up trying to analyze what you remember of Valmese tactics." The prince called as he opened the flap to his tent to turn in for the night himself.

     "'Don't stay up late,' who does he think he is? My dad?" The tactician joked to himself as he returned to his tent.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions within camp continue to escalate as the Shepherds are still left reeling at the sudden death of their leader and their tactician's subsequent mysterious disappearance. As discord threatens to come to a head, darkness continues to brew and slowly comes to a boil within the Dragon's Table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too good at getting these things out very quickly, am I? If I had to take a guess, I would assume the reason to be some combination of being easily distracted and having a more slow, deliberate approach to writing. Doesn't help that this beast of a chapter just kept going and going and it felt like forever until I finally felt like it was finished.

     The evening sun of spring cast a warm glow over Naga's Cradle, bathing the serene meadow in a gentle amber light and casting long shadows. A pleasant breeze blew through the plain; branches and stalks of grass bowing gracefully at the touch of the tender gust. All was quiet, save for the chirp of crickets and leaves rustling in the wind. Peace reigned over the hallowed ground. Yes, peace; something the world had not felt in a long time, something the retired tactician had not known since he was a boy, something he had not known since his mother had told him the truth of the circumstances of his birth not long after he turned sixteen. After all he had been through and after all he had done, peace was nothing less than what he deserved.

     Allim sat with his back to a sycamore, legs stretched out in front of him and his nose in a book. A story of a warrior of unparalleled strength and beauty clad in armor of amber and ruby who wielded the elements themselves against the forces of corruption. Wholly enthralled by the tale, he was pulled from his immersion as he felt a growing weight against his shoulder. Looking up, he was less than surprised to find his wife had once again dozed off, the corners of his lips curling upwards as the dragoness nuzzled against him. His attention no longer focused on the volume in his hands, the raven-haired man lazily swept his gaze over the surrounding area, noting a lacking presence.

     "Eh, she knows better than to run too far." Allim muttered absentmindedly, unaware of the girl barely choking back laughter in the boughs above him. She had gathered enough ammo and her target was unsuspecting; it was the perfect time to strike. Carefully descending from the tree, she worked her way around the trunk as slow as possible to not draw attention to herself.

     "SNEAK ATTACK!" The green haired girl's jubilant call caused the former strategist of Ylisse to jolt in surprise, quickly raising his book to shield himself from the ensuing hail of tree nuts.

     "Nice try, Morgan." He lowered his book and gave his daughter a small smile.

     "I thought I had you this time..." She huffed.

     "You almost did, kiddo." Allim chuckled.

     "You didn't even know I was there..." Morgan mumbled, crossing her arms and puffing out her cheeks.

     "Ah, but you forget; the key to any ambush is stealth." Her father reminded her gently, beckoning her over and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Shouting 'sneak attack' isn't very sneaky, is it?" 

     "No..." The half-dragon surrendered, looking down in disappointment.

     "Shouting a battle cry can be useful in striking fear in your enemies; but when you're trying to ambush someone, you have to take them completely by surprise. Wait until you've already launched your attack to shout." The tactician explained, doing his best to suppress the mischievous grin that threatened to overtake his features. "Sort of like _this!"_ He moved to lunge and grab his daughter, only for where his hand met her to quickly turn a sickly gray and both near-instantly recoiled in response. Allim reeled his hand back and watched in horror as the deathly color spread and his little girl decayed before his very eyes.

     "Morgan!" Allim lurched forward, hand extended despite his touch being the cause of this. His reach connected with nothing but air and his eyes flung open to show a rocky, dusty landscape. He whipped his head around in alarmed confusion before letting out an uneasy sigh of relief as the realization hit him - she was safe for now. He silently berated himself for letting his mind trick him and knew that chances the fell dragon had no part in it were low. Morgan was much younger than the girl in his dream; she had only just managed to say her first words a mere two months ago, so that should have been the first clue.

     Sighing again, the to-be Avatar of Grima pushed himself to his feet and stretched, noting the current calmness of his thoughts.  _Must have worn himself out conjuring that dream._ The tactician smirking slightly as he realized how strategically inept his tormentor was; if the wings of despair kept this up, he might actually have a fighting chance. A tired groan called his attention towards the trio of cultists before him, just beginning to stir.

     "Urggh...wh-...grah! Wha-What the hell?!" The barbarian grunted in bewilderment, turning his head around as much as possible to find he was tied to his comrades. "Did you do this?!"

     "Morning, sunshine." The cloaked man greeted mockingly. "and to answer your question - of course I did, who else would have?"

     "Why not just kill us?" The lancer questioned.

     "Because what I need to do could be done a lot faster if I had some help. Figured you lot would have a lot better knowledge of the land than I do, so I decided to cut you a deal; help me and I'll free you with your lives still remaining."

     "And if we refuse?" The lancer piped up again, the archeress still remaining silent.

     "Then I make this world a better place by thinning the number of people seeking its destruction; become a Shepherd one last time to cull the herd." The tactician explained matter-of-factly. 

     "Then go ahead and kill us!" The barbarian roared. "I'd die before I'd willingly prevent Master Grima's second coming!" To mark his point, he coughed up a small amount of phlegm and spat at the black haired man, the globule landing on the tactician's boot.

     "Is that your final answer?" Allim asked solemnly, the would-be axe wielder nodding with glare in response. "Unfortunate. Well, have it your way." Reaching into the folds of his cloak to produce a tome for a clean kill, he instead found his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, sliding the blade out of its sheath. His body convulsed in sync with his elevated heartbeat momentarily and his grip on the hilt tightened. A deafening ring pierced his thoughts and his vision ran red. Unable to act, the possessed man could feel his arm reeling back to ready an attack.

     "Your life is  _mine!_ " The words were from his lips, in his voice, but they were not his own. He felt a slight jolt of resistance as the steel edge cleaved through its target and his eyes closed as he felt a warm spatter against what little of his skin was left exposed. A low, dark laugh sounded and judging by the soft vibrations he felt in his throat, he wasn't the only one hearing it. Wiping at his face with his free hand, he opened his eyes once more to find that the red lens in his vision had faded. Despite the infernal heat of the Plegian sun, Allim now found himself shivering as if he were caught in the deep of a Feroxi winter. Steadying his hands as best he could, he lowered his weapon, ichor sliding off the edge and falling to the sandy rock below in drops. Letting out a shaky breath, the tactician allowed his vision to refocus itself and slid his gaze down to take in the Fell Dragon's - no,  _his_ \- handiwork. 

     It was a clean cut; one swipe had hacked the barbarian's head from his shoulders as easily as if he had cut corn from the stalk. The ground below was wet with scarlet life, the crimson water slowly seeping into the earth. Allim stared in silent shock,; not at what he had done, but at how there had been such little warning before Grima had wrestled control from him. It had faded for now, but if that agonizing, thought-piercing ringing was the only sign he would have before Grima asserted dominance, it would be a miracle if he could form even the simplest of words of warning seeing as he wouldn't be able to hear himself think. Tearing his gaze from the corpse before him to the remaining, blood splattered cultists in front of him, the quivering man loosed another uneasy sigh.

     "So, any other takers, or are you going to save yourselves?" Allim hated what he was doing. Threatening people like this went against everything he had learned in his time amongst the Shepherds. If he tossed his morals to the side the moment things went sour, had he ever really stood by them in the first place?  _No, the Grimleal are bad people._ He desperately assured himself.  _They seek the world's destruction, so killing them makes this world a better place._  He remained unconvinced.

     "Well, I got nothing to gain by dying, so count me in, I guess." The lancer conceded, shrugging as best he could with his arms tied behind his back.

     "And what's your answer?" The cloaked man directed towards the still silent archeress as his shuddering slowly calmed.

     "I'll follow wherever you go, Allim." The archeress finally spoke up, looking him straight in the eye with a determined gaze.

     "How do you know my name?" The raven-haired man asked, drawing a scoff from the bow-woman.

     "I don't think there's a soul in the land who hasn't heard of Ylisse's legendary tactician, sir." She replied with a sly smile, amused at how surprisingly slow-witted such a famous military mind could be.

     "Why the sudden change of heart, though?" Allim queried, sitting down in front of the pair with one leg propped up and the other stretched in front of him. "Neither of you seemed to like me last night."

     "I'm not even with the Grimleal on a spiritual level." The lancer admitted. "The world's pretty dangerous and I don't have the coin to hire guards, so I figured sticking with the crazy, bloodthirsty cult might keep me alive. Not the brightest idea, I know, but I've survived this long, haven't I?"

     The cloaked tactician nodded in understanding; there was some wisdom in those actions despite them being a little untrustworthy - Gangrel's speech about men being beasts and only standing behind each other for personal gain was brought to mind. Allim dismissed these thoughts quickly; he was already constantly wary as is and he could easily overpower the soldier should he try anything, so there was little worry in having the lancer tag along. Hell, he wasn't much better himself; he was seeking to enlist the help of cultists for a quest to find something that might not even exist and gave them the ultimatum to either help him or die, so it wasn't like he had any moral high ground to stand on, especially considering that the circumstances had them risking their lives regardless of whether or not they chose to accept. Before he could ask the archeress her intentions, a voice that was slowly becoming familiar piped up.

 _Well, hello Al-Al._  The otherworldly rasp of the fell dragon echoed in greeting. __Did you like the little dream I made for you?__ Allim didn't indulge him by arguing, but the suppressed scowl was all Grima needed.  _Seems I've struck a nerve._ A scratchy cackle invaded the cloaked tactician's thoughts. Arguing would only cause his grip on his emotions to slip, which would once again grant his captor an opening to take hold once more.

      "-never really had faith, either." The archeress's words were a rope that allowed Allim to pull himself free of the depths of his thoughts and once again focus on reality. "I've been on the search for something for a long time, and I had hoped that maybe I could find it amongst the Grimleal. Alas, I've found nothing with them, so I'm moving on." 

     "I think it an odd coincidence that both of you deny any true connection to the Grimleal." Both his captives visibly tensed. "But seeing as I already have little reason trust you, I will be a man of my word. So long as you don't intentionally impede my quest, you'll see your life has a better end than at my hand." Standing and moving closer to the circle, Allim reached between the arms of the now former cultists and carefully cut the cloth that bound his new companions to each other and motioned for them to stand, freeing them of their binds when they did so.

     "What of our weapons?" The lancer asked, shooting Allim a glance from over his shoulder as he stretched. 

     "You don't need them." The raven-haired man answered simply. 

     "Don't need th-are you out of your gods' damned mind?!" He asked, completely dumbfounded.

     "Quite possibly, yes," Allim replied, flicking his wrist to fling the remaining blood off his blade before sheathing the weapon. "But as far as you're concerned, my state of mind is irrelevant. If I say you don't need your weapons, you don't need them." He didn't trust them and they knew that, but saying it aloud would only risk inciting conflict. "Now if we are to be, er...travel companions, I believe proper introductions are in order."

     "Name's Mikah and just like our little archer pal here, I already know who you are, so introducing yourself won't be necessary,  _tactician._ " The lancer spat out the last word like it burned his tongue.

     "You may call me Eris." The archeress stated with a polite dip of her head.  _I_ _take it that's not your real name._ The raven-haired tactician thought, not that it mattered, as long as he had something to call her.

     With introductions out of the way, Allim reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew his map, motioning for Mikah and Eris to join him as he sat back down and unfurled the parchment. "Our current location is here, with Castle Plegia being to the northwest, estimating somewhere around here." The tactician thumbed the small, lone tick mark and added another for the position of Castle Plegia. "Our position given, I don't suppose either of you would know which direction to go to reach the nearest settlement?"

     "Yeah, there's quite a large town somewhere around...here?" Mikah paused a moment in recollection before tapping his index finger against the map. "It's a port town called, uh...Saluh-wait, no, uh...Sala-, no that's not it...Oh! Right! Town's called Salizar's Point."

     "Well, I suppose that's a good enough place to start gathering information as any." Allim conceded as he marked Salizar's Point on his map. "A port town would be a good place to stock up on supplies, and if it's as sizeable as you say, chances are there's a library there so that combined with people coming and going from many parts of the world, it should lend itself well to my research."

     "You'll get no disagreement from me." Eris added passively. 

     "It's settled, then. We depart immediately." The tactician rolled the map up once again and returned his cartography implements to his cloak. "Judging by the position of the sun, we want to go  _that_ way." He pointed to the still rising sun to the group's right and then adjusted his point to face south-southwest. 

* * *

      _Creeaaaaakkk..._ The deathly silence within the main sanctuary of the Dragon's Table was shattered as a knight of Ylisse slowly pushed open the massive stone doors.  _Tap..._ _tap...tap..._ Footsteps echoed off the high arched ceiling and darkness curled away from encroaching torchlight. A red gaze swept over the hall, noting the multitude of corpses and discarded weapons.

     "Geez, Allim and Chrom sure did a good job of clearing this place out." Sully muttered to herself. Sidestepping the crumpled form of a berserker, the redhead scanned the dim temple for that familiar white cape or a glimpse of blue hair. Even though there was nobody here except for her and Stahl - they entered together, so she knew he was around here somewhere - she still felt on edge. After several paces, the bodies and weapons ended, leaving nothing but open ground ahead. Something a fair distance in front of her glinted in the torchlight, causing her gait to quicken.

      _Tap...tap...tap.._ Footsteps echoed out of sync with her own footfalls and caused the dismounted cavalier to instinctively reach for the lance slung across her back; adjusting her footing and readying to strike at a moment's notice as a doorway in the corner slowly lit up. A shadow passed over the approaching light, causing Sully to grit her teeth and prepare to charge. The footsteps slowed to halt and the unmistakable metallic screech of a sword being pulled none too gently from its sheath rang out.

     "Come out and face me instead of hiding in the shadows, you cravenly dastard!" The redhead challenged, the footsteps resuming at a once again even pace as the echo of her words faded. A few moments later, a fairly bulky figure emerged from the corridor.

     "Sully, it's me!" Stahl called in reply as he stepped into the sanctuary, his former partner letting out a shaky breath.

     "Shoulda said something, then!" She shouted as she slung her lance back over her shoulder. "Damn near gave me a heart attack!"

     "Sorry, sorry. You gave me quite the scare, too." The other cavalier rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, returning his weapon to its place at his hip. "Did you find Chrom yet?"

     "Nah, still looking." Sully denied. "You find out where that trail of blood in the foyer lead?" She asked, rolling her stiff shoulders as the words left her lips.

     "Not yet, but it looks like it stops just over there." He answered, lowering his torch and pointing to a spot a few feet in front of him. He continued walking and stopped several feet from an altar at the very back of the large hall, squatting down to inspect the glinting object she saw earlier. "Well, found Chrom." He said softly, beckoning the redhead over.

     "Hard to imagine someone - or some _thing_ \- freakishly powerful enough to kill him." Sully said in a hushed voice. The two slowly turned the Exalt's body over and grimaced at the sight they were met with. "I don't know much about magic, but this doesn't look like something that nicked him from afar. Whatever did this must have got the drop on him, somehow." That just raised even more questions. Even with the permanent injury that plagued his sword arm, Chrom was still a force to be reckoned with and nigh unstoppable when Allim had his back, so, what possibly could have caught both of them off guard?

     "Must have been Validar." The mossy-haired cavalier guessed suspiciously quickly. "I don't think its anything to worry about, though; Allim wouldn't leave if the job wasn't..."

     "Wasn't what?" Sully questioned. "You gonna finish that sentence?"

     "I, uh, think I found the Fire Emblem..." Stahl muttered absent-mindedly. Sully followed his gaze and sure enough, she spotted the legendary Shield of Seals giving off a faint, eerie light from where it sat propped up in a basin built into the altar. Standing up to move closer, her crimson eyes noticed the now familiar geometric eye design of the cult etched into the light stone. The pupils of the eye formations were carved deeper than the rest, housing low burning sticks of a foul smelling incense, with what appeared to have once been a pyre built on a higher tier of the altar. The cavalier guessed the basin was originally filled with water, but whatever it was, it was more opaque than normal water and seemed to swirl on its own.

     "Call me crazy, but I don't think we should mess with that." Stahl muttered, suddenly feeling very cold.

     "Well, Lissa told us to go get it, so we can't just leave it here." Sully protested, she herself noticeably trying not to shudder.

     "Let's get Tiki to take a look at it, then. She knows more about the Fire Emblem than we do." The cavalier pressed. 

     "Fine, fine. Let's just get the captain and get out of here, then." The redhead surrendered. "This place gives me the creeps."

     Stahl nodded silently and scooped up his brother-in-law's cold remains. Rigor mortis had begun to set in during the night, making carrying the now stiff body more of a challenge than it would have been otherwise. Aside from his neck lolling against the cavalier's upper arm, Chrom's joints had all but locked up entirely. With Sully cupping the captain's back under her forearms to ease the lifting process, the pair set off for the camp just outside. A grim quietness between them persisted as they carefully stepped over fallen cultists and scattered weapons as they exited the temple and when the echoes of their last footsteps faded, the stillness of death once again permeated over the temple.

     Once outside again, the pair squinted as their eyes adjusted to the midday light, the sun holding directly overhead. All eyes were on the two cavaliers as they made their way down the huge staircase, or rather on the corpse they brought with them. All eyes except four; belonging to the to-be Exalt and the Voice of Naga, who were once again locked in a one-sided argument.

     "Why are you being so stubborn?" The former asked the latter with an agitated growl. Her unkempt hair hung to her lower back, lying uneven and in knots as she'd neglected to manage it that day.

     "I could very well ask you the same question, milady." Tiki replied, her cool and even tone clashing with her impatient expression.

     "But he's your husband and the father of your child, for gods' sakes! Why are you so adamant in refusing to help us look for him?!" Lissa pressed, her normally calm blue eyes blazing in anger.

     "Might I interrupt for a moment?" Stahl cut in, having handed Chrom off to Libra to be adequately covered until the proper embalming procedures could be started when they brought the Exalt's body back to Ylisstol. "Lady Tiki, I must speak with you for a moment."

     Happy for a chance to escape her argument with Lissa, the manakete nodded and followed the green knight to the stairs leading up to the temple.

     "What matters do you need to speak with me about?" Tiki questioned when they reached the staircase.

     "Well, uh, we found the Fire Emblem," Sully started. "But something seems kinda weird about it, so we thought it'd be best to have you see for yourself instead of one of us messing with it."

     "Something seemed strange? How so?" The manakete tilted her head curiously.

     "We found it placed in some sort of altar," Stahl explained. "It was surrounded by incense and candles and such. Seemed to be a better idea to have someone who knows more about it to see for themselves."

     "Show me." Tiki said quickly, her features creasing in concerned determination and her composed aura fading as her blood ran cold. The cavaliers nodded and led the way up to the dark cathedral, the three moving up the long stairway at a brisk pace. Before long, the silence within was broken again as the Voice crossed the great stone threshold and sprinted to the altar in the back of the sanctuary, Sully and Stahl not far behind her.

     As Tiki reached the shrine, her worst fears were confirmed and she felt as if all the air had been forced from her lungs. The incense had burnt out, but the foul smell still hung in the air. The translucent liquid that filled the basin swirled slowly and seemed to take vaguely facelike shapes. The Emblem itself pulsed with a faint, grim purple light. Tiki braced herself against the carved stone and forced back the shuddering that threatened to wrack her body.

     "Hey, what's wrong? Everything alright?" Sully asked in surprise.

     "I'm f-fine, I just need a few moments." She replied in a wavering voice. Droplets fell and caused the contents of the basin to ripple.

     "Did you figure out what's going on with the Fire Emblem? Has something happened?" The green knight questioned.

     "Indeed, something unknowably terrible has happened." The Voice spoke through clenched teeth, her voice fading in volume as she went on. "I saw all the signs...I knew it to be true, but I didn't want to believe it..."

     "Do you think..." Stahl wasn't sure if he could force the question out. "Do you think this might have something to do with Allim killing Chrom?" Sully looked at him in bewilderment  when his question was in the air. It was Allim that killed Chrom? That doesn't make any sense. Chrom was his best friend and one of the few people he actually seemed to trust personally, so why in the name of the gods would he kill him?

     The manakete didn't respond; the only sounds that broke the otherwise all-encompassing silence were her erratic, shaky breaths and a slow but steady series of drips. After several moments, Tiki's uneven breathing gave way to a choked, desperate sob and she had to bite back the urge to cave into her grieving desires - there would be a time for that, but it was not here yet. She took a deep breath loosed a quivering exhale before turning her head ever so slightly to peer over her shoulder.

     "Th-that would be correct." The two cavaliers exchanged uncertain glances as the normally calm and serene woman desperately tried to piece herself back together.

     "Well, what reason is that?" Sully questioned brashly, clenching her first at her side.

     "I..." Tiki stuttered, turning away again and laying a hand across her chest.

     "No more excuses or half answers!" The redhead demanded. "Our tactician turned on our general and the only one who knows what the hell's going on here is you! You owe us an explanation!"

     The green-haired woman sighed and shifted her gaze upwards to the carving of a six-winged dragon jutting out from the wall. She let one hand fall to her side but the other stayed where it laid at her breast. As she gazed at the effigy of such a foul creature, something sparked within her and a determined, somewhat dark expression stole her features. She reached out and lifted the Fire Emblem from the basin. The swirling waters stilled as the golden artifact was removed and the pulsating light ceased With the Shield of Seals in hand, the manakete turned to let her green gaze bore into Sully's red one.

     "You're right, you deserve the truth." Tiki dipped her head slightly in apology. "Come, I shall explain back at camp. You all deserve answers."

* * *

      "That's....that's a lot to take in." Sully stammered, her gaze fixed on the sand before her. 

     "Is...is this what you meant when you said Allim's will isn't entirely his own anymore?" Lissa asked timidly from where she sat next to her husband, gently leaning on the mossy-haired man who wrapped his arm around her shoulders in turn.

     "Yes." Tiki confirmed with a nod. "That is why saying Chrom died at Allim's hand is not entirely true. My husband was at Grima's mercy."

     "Why one would seek to revive such a foul, destructive creature is beyond me." Libra sighed.

     "I, too, cannot fathom why Allim's ancestors would do such a thing." The manakete's eyes slid closed with exhaustion - both mental and physical - and she folded her hands in her lap. "I fail to grasp why someone would want to resurrect such a terrible beast, let alone wish for one to surrender their will and allow it to bring forth desolation."

     "Okay, so this Validar guy was trying to bring the Fell Dragon back, I get that much," Vaike said with a few puzzled scratches to the side of his head. "But he's dead, innit he? How'd he do it if he kicked it?"

     "I suspect that the Awakening ritual continued during their clash." Tiki explained. "When I reached the altar, all evidence pointed to the rite already having been completed; perhaps Validar knew he had no true hope of defeating both of them, so he simply stalled for time until Grima's soul awakened within Allim."

     "But when I talked to him last night, he seemed perfectly in control." Lissa blurted in confusion. "So if Grima isn't in full control yet, shouldn't it be really important to find him so we can help him stay in control?"

     "How I wish that were true." The Voice replied with a sad smile. "There is no guarantee that we would succeed and being near him would put us in great danger." The manakete opened her eyes and gazed longingly to the west, vividly remembering the dark silhouette of her beloved against the setting sun and silently regretting not having tried to stop him, or at least trying to talk him into letting her tag along.  _No, that wouldn't have solved anything_. She told herself.  _Morgan needs me._  

     "I know the risks, you've already told me three times." The princess sighed. "But wouldn't the risk be worth the reward?"

     "You bring a fair point, but trying to find him would be a fruitless effort." Tiki countered softly. "You know as well as I what my husband is capable of. Finding a man with the set of skills he possesses would prove nigh-impossible if he does not want to be found. Now, if you will excuse me, I must ready myself for my journey home as the rest of you have been slowly working towards."

     The age-old manakete stood and proceeded towards her tent to begin preparations, turning back when Lissa called her one last time.

     "So, is there really nothing we can do to help Allim?" She asked, seeming small and broken.

     "All we can do now is pray for his safety." The Voice answered solemnly. "But, I know my Al-Al well and I believe in my heart that he can prevail." With this, she returned on her track to her tent, yet to realize the fact that the entire camp just heard her refer to such a well-respected man as Al-Al.

* * *

     "Looks like I'm surrounded...but I still have a few tricks left up my sleeve." Allim panted, gripping the tome at his side. Turning on his heel to face the bow knight bearing down on him, he flipped the volume open and ran his palm along its pages, causing sparks to crackle at his fingertips. "Checkmate!" The tactician raised his hand over his hand and whipped it downwards towards his attacker, the mounted archer subsequently drowning in a storm of blue electricity. He closed his custom bound Katarina's Bolt tome, which he had dubbed Thread in a spin of ironic humor, given his disbelief in destiny. Scanning the battlefield, he smiled as the Shepherds slowly began to press onward towards the Mila Tree's trunk. His gaze drifted upwards as a shadow passed overhead and the roar of a wyvern met his ears, whipping his head around when he heard a thud followed by rustling cloth and then the shriek of steel against steel.

     "Hey, Bubbles!" Gaius called as he brought his Armorslayer crashing down against a nearby general's helmet, sending the knight into a daze. "Cherche and I spotted a whole horde of reinforcements riding our way. What's the plan?"

     "I'm having everyone form up on the enemy commander's position, Alto Formation. With this - HRAAAHHH! Predictable!" Allim interrupted himself to shove the assassin aside and quickly drew his blade to block an incoming spear. "With this knowledge in mind, though, hold the line and wait for me to give the signal before collapsing in!" He ordered as rushed in and finished off the incapacitated knight.

     "You got it, Bubbles!" Gaius scoffed lightheartedly, lowering his sword and whistling out a short series of notes. Within several moments, the massive form of Minerva descended, her rider extending her free hand and pulling the thief onto the beast's back, the wyvern craning her neck to look at the thief and snorting in contempt as she felt his weight settle.

     "Minerva, I know you're not comfortable with most people riding you, but thank you for cooperating." Cherche cooed and gently scratched the side of her mount's head, the black reptile responding with a low rumbling, not unlike that of a purring cat. "Are you sure you're fine on your own, Sir Allim?" She asked as she readied to lead Minerva into the skies once more. "I'd be more than happy to help cover you. After all, we would be in a tight spot without you."

     "Cherche, please; for the last time, it's just 'Allim.'" The raven-haired man said with mock exasperation. He hated that title. Aside from his gift for tactics, he really never thought of himself as anything special. For the admittedly brief portion of his life that he could remember, he'd always just been Allim, nothing more and nothing less. Chrom, on the other hand, almost seemed to blatantly refuse to see it that way. The prince had insisted that the entirety of Ylisse owed him a great debt and seemed to spend every moment of his free time that he could trying to repay it. Allim didn't want political power, he didn't want gold, and he most certainly didn't want land. Eventually, he had accepted being honorarily knighted just so he could lay the issue to rest. He loved the man like a brother, but gods, could he be irritatingly persistent sometimes.

     "And I guess having a couple extra pairs of eyes watching out for me wouldn't be a bad idea, though." Allim mused, cupping his chin and tapping his jaw with his index finger. "Alright, I accept!" The tactician flashed a confident smile and nodded.

     With that, the fuschia haired woman gently kicked her heel into her mount's side and took to the skies once more. As the black figure of Minvera climbed into the air, Allim could just barely see the redhead riding with her try to nock an arrow then nudge his forearm into her back. Letting out a quiet laugh and shaking his head, Allim proceeded back along his track towards the growing collection of his allies. Everything was going smoothly; the enemy reinforcements would arrive soon, but their starting numbers were dropping like flies. Up ahead, he sees the figures of Chrom and Olivia standing back to back in the thick of the fight.

     When he first met the dancer, seeing such a sight would have shocked him to his core and he would have wanted to order the pink haired woman to the back lines, but she had shown an interesting aptitude for combat. Sure, it took awhile for it to blossom fully, but quite a lot could change in the space of two years. Now, she was doing more than just serving as a distraction or holding her own, she had become a force to be reckoned with and the raven-haired man pitied anyone matched up against the dancer's blinding speed.

     "Hey, Chrom! There's been a slight change of plans!" Allim called as he entered the fray. "We've got enemy reinforcements inbound, and I'm thinking we should hold off on striking their commander down until they arrive." A blast from Thread knocked a falcon knight from the sky, the winged horse letting out a chilling shriek of fear as it tumbled to the Mila Tree's massive roots, its body convulsing from electric shock as it hit the bark.

     "Are you sure that's a good idea?" The prince asked as he took advantage of a brief lull in the skirmish to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow before once again raising his sacred blade against the Valmese. "I should know better than to question you by now, but wouldn't it be better to take out their initial forces before we have their reinforcements to deal with?"

     "That's a good question and a valid option," The raven-haired man noted. "But, what I'm hypothesizing is that if they arrive just in time to watch their commander fall, it'll deal a heavy blow to their morale, which could help tip the scales against such a massive force as the Conqueror's army." Sweeping his chocolate gaze over the battlefield, a confident smile pulled at the tactician's lips as he realized that, aside from their general's person guard, there were only a few stragglers left to pick off before he could properly set his plan into motion. "Heads up, incoming hero, 5 o'clock, silver axe." He warned. Olivia leapt in to catch the axe against her blade and then delivered a devastating counterattack. "We'll be taking a risk; a calculated one, for sure, but a risk nonetheless."

     "Well, seems like a sound plan, especially considering that we've taken out what I'd guess to be about a third of their initial forces." Chrom admitted, Allim nodding in confirmation at his rudimentary estimation of the enemy forces left. "About half of them went down without much of a fight, to boot. That, coupled with the fact that the calculated risks you take end in your favor so frequently that it seems as though you've been blessed by some god of chance. Either way, you've got my permission to give the order."

     "You know what they say; fortune favors the bold." Allim chuckled. "Alright, surround that general in Alto Formation and hold the line until I give the signal to collapse in on him. Oh, and if you see Cherche, tell her I need an update on how far out those reinforcements are." The prince nodded and set off for the northmost end of the field at a steady jogging pace, his wife not far behind him. Not wanting to wait to see if the blue haired man would manage to catch the wyvern riders attention, the raven-haired tactician pressed his fingers to his lips and tried his best to imitate the series of notes Gaius had used earlier.

     Being practically tone deaf, he was way off key, but sure enough, Minerva descended from the sky to hover beside him. Her rider greeted the second in command with a cheerful smile. 

     "Cherche, status report; how far out do you think those reinforcements are?" Allim asked, his commanding tone not entirely uncharacteristic of him when in a combat situation.

     "I'd say about five minutes out." The fuschia haired knight estimated.

     "Alright, keep my posted; I want to know as soon as they take the field." The tactician said, setting off for the rally point. "Oh, and thanks for agreeing to ferry Gaius around the battle; you two made quite the team."

     "Yup, Cherche makes a pretty good battle partner," Gaius smirked as he dismounted for a three-point landing. "Even if she can't hold her wyvern still long enough for me to get a good shot." He patted the mostly empty quiver at his back to mark his point.

     "Well, I'm almost always flying alone, so forgive me for not being used to adjusting for additional weight." Cherche responded. "If you should be thanking anyone, it should be Minerva for cooperating instead of biting Gaius's fingers off, but I'm happy to lend myself to this war nonetheless. I'll update you on the status of those incoming soldiers as soon as they arrive." The wyvern rider nodded in acknowledgment before taking off, spiraling upwards to slowly circle the battlefield.

     "Wait, 'additional weight'?!" Gaius yelled after her. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Allim looked away so the thief wouldn't see him rolling his eyes over how much the two sounded like an old married couple.

     "Do you have to antagonize everyone all the time?" The tactician asked as the two picked their way towards the rally point, glancing back over his shoulder just in time to see the sugar addict shrug wordlessly.

* * *

     "What do you think they're doing, sir?" A lancer asked his general as the two watched the Shepherds grouped about twenty yards away. 

     "I know not of what these foolish Ylisseans are planning." The mustachioed knight replied. "Perhaps they are just that; fools." A pegasus knight swooped in next to him, landing and dismounting to stretch her aching limbs.

     "General Cervantes, our reinforcements have arrived; the Ylissean dogs are boxed in." She said, snapping a salute.

     "Excellent! They shall pay the price for underestimating the great Conqueror's army!" Cervantes laughed darkly, failing to notice a draconic shadow pass overhead.

* * *

     "Reinforcements have arrived, sir." Cherche informed as she swooped in. "They should be upon us in a short matter of minutes."

     "So, that's it, then." Allim said. "Alright, everyone! Look alive! Collapse Alto Formation on my mark...three....two....one....CHAAAAARGE!" The Ylisseans faked a charge to draw out the enemy forces before splitting into two groups and crushing the enemy forces in a pincer movement, the raven-haired tactician finding himself face to face with the enemy commander with Chrom at his side.

     "I've got your back, as always!" The blue haired prince reassured with a confident smile. Allim responded in turn with a nod and flipped open Thread.

     "My whiskers are safe against you - victory is inevitable!" The red knight replied, clanking the flat of his lance against one of his shoulder plates.

     Allim wordlessly ran his fingers along Thread's pages, feeling the warmth of the crackling, sparking energy at his fingertips slowly build to a prickling sensation. The sparks continued to build until the tactician held a small ball of barely controlled electrical energy in the palm of his hand. He took aim and flexed his fingers to send the energy sailing through the air, diminishing in size as it traveled to a glowing pea sized speck. The speck made contact and violently exploded outward, consuming the heavily armored target in a hail of arching lightning. As the sparks died down, the general gave a mirthful laugh.

     "We're not done yet!" Chrom roared defiantly as he ran in to strike, bringing Falchion down across the weak point where shoulder plate met chest plate; the sacred sword barely even left a scratch.

     "I have never shaved, nor have I ever lost!" Cervantes laughed as he readjusted his footing. "Ergo, my mustache makes me invincible! It's simple science, my boy! Someone as clever as you must understand that!" The general charged, his admittedly impressive speed accompanied by the rhythmic clank of his armor. He let out an unintelligible battle cry as he thrust his arm forward, his lance slicing through the air, and then cloth and flesh. Allim had moved to evade, so thankfully the spear only grazed his shoulder instead of skewering him, but he still had to bite back a pained scream regardless.

     "That seems like some pretty flawed logic if you ask me!" The tactician countered as he prepared another spell. "Either way, you're finished! Eeeyyaaahhh!" Cervantes fell as he was enveloped in another hail of arching lightning, his lance skittering along the bark and slipping into the river below with a gentle  _sploosh_. Before closing his tome, Allim shot an intimidating glance at a nearby lancer who flew into a panic.

     "The general has fallen! General Cervantes has fallen! Retreat! Retreeeaatt!" The soldier looked younger than him by at least a year and his priority of preserving his own life over serving his emperor caused Allim to believe he was a conscript, which almost made him feel sorry for the lad as he ran towards the southern end of the battlefield as fast as he could, the new arrivals watching him in bemusement before realizing themselves and following him.

     "Gods, what fighting!" Say'ri jubilated. "I would pity the enemies of Ylisse had they not laid siege to my homeland and slaughtered my people." 

     "Hate to cut post-battle celebration short, but we need to return to the task at hand." Chrom said sternly. "Say'ri, do you know the way up to the shrine?"

     "Aye, sir, follow me." The Chon'sin princess beckoned. "And you are right in ending celebration. Merriment can wait until Walhart as fallen; we must make haste!"

     The Shepherds followed the black haired woman in a single file line as she lead the way to the staircase located within the interior of the trunk. They plodded along slowly with exhaustion as they shouldered or sheathed their weapons. Allim was near the back of the line, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he continued walking towards the trunk, craning his neck to look upwards at the light streaming through the branches and leaves until his view was obscured by bark. Following everyone else as they ascended the massive staircase, a strange sensation passed over him and he let out a relaxed sigh. His still pounding heart slowed and a feeling of serenity washed over him, dulling the ache of fatigue he felt pounding in his veins. Reaching a hand out, he slowly traced his finger over the cracks, divets, and imperfections in the trunk of the massive tree. Up ahead, he could hear someone panting in exhaustion.

     "Ugh, how many stairs are in a case of stairs?" Lissa groaned. "Because I'm sick of this stupid staircase!"

     "Peace, Lissa." Her brother assured her. "I can see the sky now, so we're getting close." Were they already that close to the top? He'd hardly been paying attention, but as the princess's voice called him back to reality, he definitely felt a dull ache in his legs. Even so, the feeling of peace remained even if it had been diminished.

     One by one, the Shepherds reached the shrine at the time of the tree and slowly spread out along the strange field. Allim squinted his eyes and held up his arm to shield himself from the harsh angle of the sun. As his eyes adjusted, he lowered his arm and his breath was taken away at the scene that lay before him; clouds as far as the eye could see with miles upon miles of Valmese countryside peeking through the gaps. Way off in the distance, he swore he could see the sea on the east side of the continent.

     "Lady Tiki, are you here?" Say'ri called out. "Prithee, answer!" The samurai called again after her echo faded into the distance. As the second echo faded, a yawn sounded within a temple the size of a small house at the center of the strange plain they stood upon. All eyes were on the temple as a woman clad in red emerged, stretching her arms above her head, her green hair was long, messy, and unkempt and hung down to the small of her back.

     "Ah, there you are, my lady." The swordmaster chimed. "I am relieved to see you are still well."

     Try as he might, Allim couldn't take his eyes off this woman. Not for her figure - while he would be lying if he were to say she wasn't a curvaceous woman, that was beside the point - not because she held the key to success in uniting the people of the various territories of Valm, but because something seemed so hauntingly familiar about her. Her sharp emerald gaze, the way her hair seemed to sparkle in the sun, and the way she carried herself as she walked further from her dwelling. The voice of Lucina sounded vaguely in his ears, but her words didn't register. His body felt heavy and his head buzzed. A sharp ring echoed out and he had to clench his teeth for all he was worth to prevent drawing attention to himself. 

      _Farewell, Allim..._ A familiar voice echoed, a faceless figure in a short red dress waving to him.

      _Farewell, my love...May we meet again, in a better life._  His own voice echoed in response.

      _Meet again, in a better life?_ Allim thought in confusion, regaining control of his thoughts as that horrible noise faded.  _C-could this be...There's no way...It was just a dream..._ And yet the mysterious woman from his dreams prior stood before him, as real as the sun in the sky. He recognized the sound of voices and slowly pulled himself from his thoughts back into reality.

     "I know this task to be a heavy burden," Tiki admitted. "but as you are of exalted blood, it must fall to you, Chrom."

     "I understand." The prince acknowledged. "Thank you, for all your help."

     "We owe you a great debt, milady." Allim added, feeling as though he were fumbling with his words. 

     "Ah!" The oracle's gaze seemed to spark as it alighted upon him. "You...you have it..." She half mumbled.

     "I'm sorry, what?" He questioned, trying his best not sound nervous. Could she read his mind? Did she know about his dream of her? No, no, that would be preposterous! Who ever heard of somebody that could truly read minds? Sure, there were people far and wide who claimed to possess telepathic abilities, but every last one he'd met turned out to be some form of con artist. 

     "You have power...like mine..." Tiki explained, her tone still a sleepy mumble.

     "I-I do?" Allim questioned further. Was she also something of a tactician? Something here definitely wasn't making sense and the strange but not uncomfortable feeling of uneasy peace certainly wasn't helping.

     "I...ah, forgive me." The Voice stammered. "I am still groggy from my great slumber, so I fear my words have outpaced my thoughts."

     "Are you alright, milady?" Say'ri worried, taking a few steps towards the red haired woman.

     "I am fi-" Tiki interrupted herself to yawn, stretching once more. "Fine...just very tired....I don't have the strength to join you all in the fray just yet, but I shall unite the people in prayer to put an end to this conflict."

* * *

     Allim sat by himself under the stars, staring into the campfire as if the dancing blaze would give him answers. He had a war to plan; he couldn't afford to be lost in thought so frequently and yet here he was, gazing into the crackling flames like he would find the answers he was looking for within the flickering flare.

     It wasn't that he was up late that bothered him - gods knew he had little to no issue depriving himself of sleep for the sake of planning and calculating odds - rather, he was up late and wasting time doing nothing but thinking about what could quite possibly be a trivial matter.

      _May we meet again, in a better life._  Gods, it was just a dream! Why did it seem so real? He had dreams all the time, vivid ones even, so why was this dream of all dreams sticking with him over all the others? It seemed more than just a dream, though. Had he met her before? Did she hold the key to his mysterious past? Footsteps drew him from his thoughts and when he looked up, Lucina was standing by a log opposite him. 

     "Good evening, Allim. You look like you could use some company." The princess offered, Allim gesturing for her to sit in response.

     "What brings you out here tonight?" The tactician asked. "I doubt you're up in the middle of the night only to go stargazing."

     "As you may be able to guess, I'm not a very heavy sleeper," Lucina answered shakily. "And what sleep I do manage to get is usually haunted by visions of the people I was unable to save..."  _So it was less her thinking I could use some company and more her being the one that would benefit from company_. Allim realized. He didn't really mind her company, though; it was better than silently pondering that which haunted him in solitude.

     "Say, I don't think I've asked this yet," He mused, diverting the subject. "What of the future me?"

     "Hm? Well, you were a world-renown tactician of song and fable." The bluenette maiden recalled. "I have very few personal memories of you, but my mother and aunt said you and my father were like brothers. What I personally remember of you is very limited, but you were a very kind, gentle man." She smiled as she was visited by a memory of him reading to her. "It was said that you perished in the same battle as my father, but your body was never recovered." 

     "Not this time, I won't." He assured her as her expression fell. "I'll see this through to the end, and nobody is going to fall. Not you, nor me, nor your parents, nor any of our friends."

     "I...thank you, Uncle Allim." Lucina said simply. "That is...if you don't mind me calling you that."

     "Not at all!" Allim chuckled. "As you said, Chrom's like a brother to me, which makes you family as well." The princess smiled warmly at him from across the bonfire. "Aside from the obvious, why do you think you have so few memories of me?"

     "You lived in a far off land, so you weren't able to be in Ylisstol very often." She explained. "Seeing you was a rare treat when I was little."

      _I must have found a calling elsewhere._ Allim thought.  _Why else would I leave Ylisse entirely?  It still sounds like that's where my greatest companions were, so I must have had one hell of a reason to leave._

     "Well, I think it's time I try to get some sleep." The tactician said, yawning as he stood up. "Will you be alright here by yourself?"

     "Yes, I'll be fine. Go get some rest." Lucina responded. "We'll be needing you at your best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I definitely had fun with in writing this was the interactions between Gaius and Cherche. I'm not sure if it pops up anywhere aside from her dialogue with Virion in Chapter 12, but she definitely seems to be a very sassy person, and Gaius comes off as a smug person who likes to start shit.


End file.
